


Worlds Apart

by alreadysomeone



Series: Worlds Apart - Comfort in Your Heart [1]
Category: JAG (TV 1995)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:20:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27155110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alreadysomeone/pseuds/alreadysomeone
Summary: Mac, Webb, Afghanistan, sharing quarters at the prisoner detention center ... you know the story.
Relationships: Sarah MacKenzie/Clayton Webb
Series: Worlds Apart - Comfort in Your Heart [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1982140





	Worlds Apart

**Author's Note:**

> The song referenced is by Bruce Springsteen.  
> Timeline: Up through Tribunal. (Pardon the liberties I've taken with the plot/timeline.)

Darya Bulkn Valley Detention Camp  
Afghanistan

You never get used to being in combat situations, to having your life threatened. All the training in the world can’t cancel out the human instinct for survival, the need to struggle for life. No amount of battle scenarios or drills can immunize you to basic human reaction.

At our core we are animals. Like all other animals, we react with fight-or-flight instincts. And I’m a fighter.

My drinking was a flight response, but since drying out I’ve been “fight” all the way. From that first and most difficult battle with the bottle, to today fighting my way out from knifepoint in the hands of an Al Queda prisoner.

Thank God for Webb and Gunny and the discipline of those under Gunny and General Abdullah’s command. That’s something that training can do, give you the control to hone your fighting instincts to make the odds break in your favor.

Even with a positive outcome, the human response to danger is an adrenaline rush. It courses through your veins, crashing right through your carefully prepared training.

Once the chemical is released, it takes hours to fully dissipate and allow your body to come down from being on alert.

Even after hours of questioning the wounded prisoner who claimed to have seen Kabir Atif just two days ago, there was still a tremor in my hands. And against years of practiced interrogation techniques, I could hear the exhaustion and frustration in Webb’s voice as well.

The events of the day affected us both more than we’d like to admit - to either each other or ourselves.

Hostile fire along the road has made it impossible for us to return to the Seahawk tonight. So we’ve radioed the new intelligence back to the ship, and Gunny’s detachment has gone to patrol the specified area.

After a meal of MRE’s and bitter coffee, General Abdullah graciously showed us to our quarters for the night - as graciously as one can while running a prison camp in the middle of the desert, at the center of a terrible and often confusing war.

Pathetically small and dark, the room is gritty with a ragged curtain for a door and just enough space for two bedrolls to leave a two-foot perimeter around the edge for walking and stowing gear.

Webb and I haven’t much to stow, and we’re too physically exhausted to really care about the hot dusty smell of the room or our own bodies.

Our conversation, which had varied from easy and collegial to clipped and professional as our fatigue took hold, tapered off into nothing as we stripped our boots and outer garments to lie under the covers of the military issue sleeping bags.

Sleep, which has come easily, albeit lightly, in the days since we began the trial is elusive tonight. Though physically and emotionally drained, I can feel remnants of the adrenaline coursing through my body. And it’s radiating off me in an electric aura.

Lying in the silent darkness, relatively secure that there will be no further trouble tonight, but ready to be up and alert at any moment, I can feel a similar charge emanating from Webb.

There was something unique in the way we worked together today that I think is making me all the more aware of him now. We’re lying with our backs to each other and although he is silent I know he’s awake.

Like earlier, I would place my life on the fact that he knows my thoughts, and that he is also aware of the energy buzzing between us.

Webb isn’t someone I’ve ever considered having any kind of “connection” with, but sometimes circumstances create the most unexpected bonds with the most unexpected people.

I slowly roll over and he responds in kind, shifting his weight to his left side as we come face to face. The yellow-green in his hazel eyes shines at me in the ambient illumination from the moon and lights on the guard towers.

In that stare passes a mutual understanding of the danger we faced today, the toll it’s taken, and the link that’s been created.

In silent agreement we maneuver our bodies closer and embrace. At first there’s hesitation in our touch, a clumsy arranging of limbs and sleeping bags. But we remain quiet and determined to seek comfort in one another.

As we settle our bodies together, my heart unpredictably begins to pound and I can feel it thumping against his chest. Through my t-shirt and his, our hearts hammer together; chest against chest, heart against heart.

~I hold you in my arms, that's when it starts  
I seek faith in your kiss, and comfort in your heart  
I taste the seed upon your lips, lay my tongue upon your scars  
But when I look into your eyes, we stand worlds apart~

Webb and I, the unlikeliest of bedfellows, are seeking comfort together. Right now it’s hard to think of anything else except being here and holding on to him.

War makes for strange alliances. In the past, our interactions have been sometimes reluctant but usually professional. We are never true adversaries. Neither are we friends.

The character of our careers places us at odds, but I believe that we ultimately have the same goals. It’s simply a matter of ethics and methods that divide our paths.

Personally, Webb and I come from very different worlds. His upbringing was one of privilege and wealth; mine, of emotional abuse and near poverty. Somehow from those disparate worlds, we’ve come together to seek survival and reassurance with each other.

~Where the distant oceans sing, and rise to the plain  
In this dry and troubled country, your beauty remains  
Down from the mountain roads where the highway rolls to dark  
'Neath Allah's blessed rain, we remain worlds apart~

Pressing our bodies together, hearts still pounding, we draw our heads back to gaze again at each other. Operating on instinct, and without knowing who began the motion, we bring our lips together in a tentative and soft kiss.

I can feel the stubble on his face and smell the dirt and sweat on his skin and clothes as we cling together in this simple way. Ultimately, something more primal takes over. The intimate physical contact releases something in me, and I want more.

I know with an inner certainty that Webb can sense it. It’s as if for today, the cosmos intertwined us in a way that two people aren’t often privileged to be connected. As I soften my mouth against his, he brushes his tongue against my lips, which readily part.

We are moving in a strange slow motion and it feels somehow not real. As always in a combat zone I am aware of every noise and shift of the wind outside, but at the same time there’s nothing else in the world except the taste of Webb on my mouth and the feel of his body pressing into mine.

I briefly feel the irony of reveling in physical enjoyment while this country plays hosts to our military forces - and we are not exactly welcome guests. We’re in a country tragically raved by decades of civil wars and outside invasions and manipulations. Death and destruction have come often at the hands of both foreigners and fellow countrymen.

Greedy leaders have hoarded the resources and technology necessary to rule and survive. Leaders, who’ve bred hatred and fear into the population, have created a bitter, poison streak among their own people.

Yet in the middle of it all, I feel my body respond with amazing pleasure at the touch of a man. This man.

Right now, there is no one I’d rather be with and I cannot imagine sharing this with anyone else. Whatever this moment is between us, it is just that – between us.

We’re enacting the most basic of human instincts, one as primal as fight-or-flight. In the midst of all this death and danger, we’re performing the most life affirming of acts.

Sliding his tongue over and over mine, in a rhythm that’s increasing in speed and urgency, Webb releases me from his embrace bringing his sturdy hands to hold my face. There is a desperation growing in him, as if he doesn’t ever want to let me go and I too feel the same need to cling to this moment.

~Sometimes the truth just ain't enough  
Or it's too much in times like this  
Let's throw the truth away, we'll find it in this kiss  
In your skin upon my skin, in the beating of our hearts  
May the living let us in, before the dead tear us apart~

He props himself up on an elbow for better leverage and I adjust to slide a leg up and over one of his. It’s a minute before I realize that I’m moving my hips against him, increasing my own arousal and mimicking what my body is yearning for.

At last our lips part. He kisses my neck and reaches his hand under my shirt to caress my breasts and pinch at my nipples through the material of my bra. The only sounds in the room are the hard short breaths we’re taking as our energy is spent on pleasuring ourselves and each other.

Fully aware now of the movement of my hips on his thigh, I feel Webb rhythmically pivoting his hips as well, his erection straining against his pants and pressing against me.

“Mac ... Sarah?” Webb breathes, giving voice to the unspoken question between us.

I know what he’s asking, and I don't hesitate to answer.

“Yes,” I affirm.

I want this. I want him.

By mutual permission we rearrange positions, remove clothing, and shift sleeping bags. Opening both bags, we lie on one and cover our now naked bodies with the other.

~We'll let blood build a bridge, over mountains draped in stars  
I'll meet you on the ridge, between these worlds apart  
We've got this moment now to live, then it's all dust dust and dark  
Let love give what it gives  
Let's let love give what it gives~

At last we are skin to skin, two people seeking solace, love, and comfort and nothing more. But what else is there anyway?

What tomorrow or any consequences our actions might bring crosses my mind not once. And as I explore his body, solid and warm, I revel in his humanity. This man who so rarely exposes that side of himself, is naked to me now in body and soul.

And I, guarded so much of my life, am opening up in a way I never have before. In the here and now I have shed my past, my present, my uniform, my profession.

Together with our thick skins shed, we seek a sanctuary of life and love. Webb and I are worlds apart - from each other and from our daily lives – but we’ve come together for this.

He kisses my neck and moves lower, mapping the way with his hands. I feel the muscles in his shoulders and back flexing as he adjusts his body over mine and I let my fingers run through his hair as he reaches my breast with his mouth.

Moving his teeth over my nipple, he bites and sucks. His hands move lower to find my wet and warm sex. My mind spins in pleasure and desire, and I am blissfully unable to hold a coherent thought.

Hearing Webb’s ragged breath and feeling him push his erection against me, I allow myself the luxury of simply reveling in the pleasure he is bestowing.

Long languid minutes pass and I am aware of my body writhing with desire, Webb’s hands and mouth on my breasts, nipples, clit, and diving into my hot center. I am ready for more.

Again in silent concurrence, Webb moves his body even with mine and as we plunge our tongues in our kisses, I can taste myself on his mouth.

With his knee, he parts my legs even further apart and settles over my core, his cock pressed at my opening. Anxious to feel him enter me, to fully experience him that way, I tilt my hips.

As he slides his full length in, our eyes lock and the quiet intensity of our coupling is nearly overwhelming. I reach out for him and we hold tight as our hips move in tandem.  
We thrust against one another and with his hard length stroking inside me and his pelvis grinding over my clit, the pull of my release begins there and travels through the whole of my body.

As I feel the last tight contraction of my climax, Webb embraces me even harder so that I can hardly breathe. With a pause in his rhythm, he pumps one last time into me, shuddering in his pleasure.

We lie together, remaining in our bonded embrace, unwilling to let go. And we sleep the rest of the night, naked in each other’s arms. For one night, which we will likely never recapture nor discuss, we are together.

END


End file.
